


An Unexpected Adventure

by JunjouSlashGirl



Series: Unexpected Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwarven Culture, Dwarven courtship, M/M, Mpreg, Slow Burn, dragon courtship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunjouSlashGirl/pseuds/JunjouSlashGirl
Summary: Sequel to "An Unexpected Home"- Thorin is confident that they could recover Erebor with the help of the sixth Velar, but when is eyes landed on the small, unimpressive figure, he was sure Gandalf the Grey had tricked him and now he had to take a kid and another barmy old wizard onto his quest.Harry wasn't sure what shocked him more, Voldemort's spell that apparently send every wizard to sleep beside him and Dumbledore,  the fact that said spell had destroyed the borders between the two worlds lift in or the group of dwarves that suddenly stood in the great hall, demanding his help.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: Unexpected Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952002
Comments: 30
Kudos: 134





	An Unexpected Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> I finally managed to get the first chapter of the sequel straightened out. I hope I don't disappoint. 
> 
> To all who didn't read "An Unexpected Home" I can only recommend it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Hobbit, the Lord of the Rings or any of the characters. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling, Tolkien and WB.

AN: This story is partly inspired by TrueRed's fiction “Over There and Back Again”, as I fell in love with the way she describes Dwarfan culture. However, as you already know, this tale will be a crossover and will therefore be quite different in many places. I also want to mention the prequel, which is called An Unexpected Home. It is only a one-shot, but might be beneficial to this story.

Summary: A few years after Harry was adopted by Bilbo and moved in with the little Hobbit, the barriers between the earth and Arda disappear completely. Voldemort succeeds in returning the Old Days, two previously separated worlds reunite and a group of 12 dwarfs appears in front of Hogwarts. As it slowly becomes clear, that Voldemort and Sauron are the same person, Harry doesn’t need long to decide what he has to do and an unexpected journey begins.

An Unexpected Adventure,  
Chapter 1  
“Prepare yourself, Harry Potter! The Old Days will finally return!”  
The husky, high voice changed into a low, evil snicker and Harry shot up with a painfilled scream. For a moment he could do nothing, even as his mind told him to jump up and race to Dumbledore, but his head was pounding and swirling so heavily around itself, that it was hard enough to even sit up right. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep, steadying breath and as his headache decreased he grew aware of a warm liquid trickling down his face. Great, his scar had started to bleed again.

His mind returned to the vision and a shiver ran down his spine. Voldemort had sounded so... so confident, he had never witnessed the Dark Lord in such a mood and it frightened him. He took a deep intake of air in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. His eyes landed on his small drawer and without thinking, he opened it, pulling his picture of his small uncle out. Looking at it, always calmed him down.

Much had happened in the last few years. From his adoption to the arrival of his Hogwarts letter and each following school year, everything had been adventurous. He could still remember the evening his Hogwarts letter had arrived clearly. 

Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed how exciting his life would become. The arrival itself had been a surprise and he had hesitated almost too long to accept the invitation. 

But Bilbo, as always, had encourraged him. He had reminded him of the strange accidents that happened around him which grew more and more violent with each passing year. 

He had told him how exciting it would be to learn to control and use his magic propperly and spent long evenings telling him fantastic tales about the subtle magic of the elves and a wizard his mother had known. 

Bilbo had also suggested that it might be nice to go somewhere where he wouldn’t stick out so much, assuming that many unusual creatures could be found at Hogwarts. That had not been the case at all, but it had still be amazing to go to Hogwarts:

Flashback: 

Harry looked nervously out the train window as the looming castle drew closer. 

“You know, that girl might be annoying, but she is right, we should change into our school uniform.”

Blinking a little as his thoughts were interrupted, Harry turned around to the redheaded boy that had spent the train ride with him. His name was Ron and he really liked him. He hoped they would become good friends, then he might not miss Merry, Pippin and Sam so much.

Nodding, he pulled his trunk down and opened it. Bilbo had bought him a very nice trunk in the usual hobbit style, simple, but elegant with his name burned elegantly into the leather. 

Getting him school robes had been difficult. Hogwarts students wore a uniform, however, the material had ripped almost instantly from his hard scales. The witch at the store in the wizarding shopping street Diagon Alley, had used every protective charm and spell she knew on the fabrik, but nothing had worked.

So in the end bilbo had done what he had done ever since his scales had first grown; His uncle had traveled to the huge market in Bree and bought a pile of even fabrik (in rather plane beige color this time) and asked the seamstress of Hobbiton to make the usual set of tunics Harry wore out of it. 

With the tunic underneath, the black wizarding cloak at least stayed intact. He only hoped that he wouldn’t get in trouble for not wearing the proper uniform.

“Didn’t you get shirts and trousers?” Ron’s voice interrupted his memories and he once again looked up.  
“Um… the fabric didn’t survive my scales,” he explained.

The redhead looked flabbergasted shortly, but then said: “Can imagine. What kind of creature are you anyway?”  
Deciding not to hesitate but be honest as he had been with his other friends as well, Harry told him truthfully: “A dragon.”

Ron squeaked. “A what?”  
“A dragon.”  
“You mean like a real, big, fire-breathing, flying dragon?”  
Harry nodded.

“Bloody hell, mate, if I tell that Charly. He is my second oldest brother and a dragon tamer. He will want to meet you,” Ron grinned and Harry, who had tensed up for a moment at the outburst, relaxed again. 

“I can actually subtract them, but it feels wrong. Naked, somehow,” he explained and closed the clasp of his cloak. 

“Sure, has to be like losing all your hair,” Ron retorted with a shudder. “Professor Dumbledore will understand. He is great, you know?”  
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” Harry smiled back and closed his trunk again.

The train finally slowed down and they left their compartment.  
It was dark and busy on the platform. A bellowing voice was calling for the first years and as Harry looked around, he spotted a huge figure waving at them. A jolt of excitement went through his chest. This man was so big, could it be that he was another dragon?

He exchanged a look with Ron who shrugged and they trudged over.  
Up close Harry could see however, that the man was not of his kind. He had no scales, only a mane of thick, black hair and a matching beard.

“Any more firs’ years?” bellowed the man and when all shook their heads he turned around. “Be careful now. Don’t want any accidents before ya have even arrived!” 

“Where is he leading us?” Harry whispered into Ron’s ear, feeling uneasy, but the redhead only shrugged, apparently not knowing either.  
“None of my brothers told me. And I have five of them! Traitors!” he muttered as they followed the group down a dark, mutty path.

Harry could see strange lights dancing in front of him and as he reached the end of the steep track, he could see that it were the lights of the castle’s windows refecting on the black surface of a see. 

“No more than three in a boat!” announced the giant and Harry and Ron walked over to one at the very end of the small row of barges. 

“I hope that girl doesn’t join us…” Ron began but went silent when Harry sat down in the boat, making it sink into the water quite a bit. “Guess we don’t have to worry about that.”

Harry just nodded. He might look skinny, but his skales were apparently quite heavy. He and his uncle had found that out during a check up with Bell a long time ago.  
“it’s my skales. I think they are made from some kind of metal.”  
“Like real armor?” asked Ron, “Cool.”

The boat suddenly jolted forwards and then began to glide smoothly over the lake.  
Harry and Ron fell silent and Harry let his eyes wander up to the castle as it slowly grew nearer. 

His heart missed a beat in awe. He had never seen a castle before. It was huge and impressive with many battlements, bay windows and gargoyles staring down at them.

“I am so glad that I accepted,” he whispered to no one in particular, but Ron had heard him.  
“Accepted what?”  
“The Hogwarts letter.”  
“You were considering to not come?”  
He just nodded silently in reply, missing the disbelieving stare of his new friend. 

“You know, you would have really missed something. Harry Potter is starting this year as well!”  
The boats collided softly with the shore and Harry got up, not replying. He had never heard about that boy anyway. Maybe a wizarding celebrity? 

Not bothering with the thought any longer, He just followed the giant up to the castle. 

Two huge portal doors swung magically opened as he came nearer and the giant finally stopped in the middle of a huge entrance hall. 

Harry nearly jumped in fright as an old armor next to him suddenly moved to scratch his helmet and the nearest portrait of a obese witch with green hair began to snicker.  
He didn’t listen as the man said something about fetching somebody and just continued to look around. 

A loud noise like rolling thunder suddenly sounded and a staircase to his right began to move, leaving a gaping hole in the beautiful staircase.

“Fred and George say they are doing this all the time,” Ron whispered, nodding at said staircase. 

Silence descended once again over them, but not for long. Many of the other students grew fidgety and started whispering. Harry didn’t listen in the beginning, only when the name of that boy was mentioned a couple of times again. 

“I can’t wait to see him. My mum said the Potters were really brave!” A girl whispered rather loudly into her friend’s ear.  
“Bet he is going to be a Gryffindor, just like his father!” Another said.  
“IDo you think he will give me his autograph?”  
“I hope he will help me in defense. My father got me a private tutor last year and he said its my weak point. But he has to be really good!” 

“Who is that Harry Potter guy?” he finally questioned his new friend.  
Ron turned to him with disbelieving eyes.  
“You don’t know? Have you never heard about harry Potter, mate?”  
Harry just shook his head.  
“And I thought your parents have named you after him.”  
“I was adopted,” he said in a way of explaining that he didn’t know.  
“Oh. I am sorry, mate,” the redhead mumbled rather awkwardly.  
Harry just shrugged and gave him a small smile. “Don’t be. My uncle Bilbo is great. The best dad I could ever have.”

“So, who is that boy?” he reminded his friend of his question.  
“He is a hero. There was this really evil wizard once, who wanted to kill all people who had some muggle blood. My parents fought in that war and they said it looked as if the situation was hopeless. But then You-Know-Who attacked the Potters. He killed the mother and the father, but Harry Potter defeated him, even though he was still a baby! He saved us all!” His friend declared fiercely and Harry shuddered at the story.

That boy sure sounded amazing, but he would hate to be so famous. Especially for something like this. For surviving when the rest of the family was killed. 

Before his friend could say something more, a stern looking witch appeared in front of them and addressed the group:  
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.  
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.  
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." *

She vanished to the double doors behind her and Harry followed her advice and smoothed his tunic out a bit. However, Professor McGonagall reappeared rather quickly and they were finally led to their sorting. 

If the entrance hall had been impressive, it was nothing in comparison to the great hall Harry now entered. He stared in awe at the enchanted ceiling that showed the star dusted night sky, the flowing candles and the four houstables, filled to the brim with smiling and eagerly waiting older students. 

It was a wonder that he didn’t collide with anybody as he walked with his eyes pinned to the ceiling and his mouth hanging open. 

They stopped in front of an old looking hat that sat on a three legged stool and Professor McGonagall told them to line up in a neat row, before pulling a long scroll from one of her robe pockets that should have never fitted in there. 

However, instead of calling out the first name, she stepped to the side and the hat in front of them began to sing. 

Harry tried to make sense of the odd song. It was a rhyme, a poem, he supposed. Maybe even a riddle like his uncle liked to compose? Bilbo would have liked it surely and laughed about it. He would try to write it down later on and send it with the snowy white owl the hobbit had given to him as a fare-well present. 

The song ended and the stern Professor stepped up again. Finally calling out:  
“Abbott, Hannah.”

The girl came forth, sat down and the hat was dropped onto her head. It took only a moment until the hat proclaimed loudly: “HUFFLEPUFF!”

To Harry’s utter surprise he was already the next in line then.  
“Baggins, Harry!”  
“Good luck mate,” Ron whispered from behind him and he made his way to the front.  
It was odd to be on display like this. All eyes were fixed upon him as he sat down and he was rather glad as the sorting hat finally slipped over his eyes, obscuring the view.

“Baggins, hu? Not the name I would have expected you to arrive with here. Well, it shall not matter. But where to put you?”

“Not Slytherin. Please not Slytherin,” he begged in his mind, remembering that awful boy from Madame Malkins and the train who had reminded him far too much of his horrible cousin.

“Not Slytherin? But you could become great there. They would respect you for your unique gift. But I guess you do not yet know what I am speaking about,” the hat whispered and truly, he was right. Harry had no idea what gift he meant.

“Well, better be GRYFFINDORE then!”  
Applause arrupted to his right and he pulled the hat from his face, placing it carefully back onto the footstool. 

He automatically sat down next to two similar redheads who had to be Ron’s mischievous twin brothers.

“Welcome…” one of them started.  
“...to Gryffindor house,” the other finished with a grin and both grabbed his hands simultaneously to shake them. 

They reminded him a lot of Merry and Pippin and he instantly liked them.  
However, they fell silent again as the sorting continued.  
Terry Boot was made a Ravenclaw and (Harry just knew it) to Ron’s horror Hermione Granger joined them in Gryffindor. 

At one point Professor McGonagall frowned at his scroll for a rather long time, before finally calling out the name everybody was waiting for.

However, no one stepped up and a nervous whispering went through the sea of students. 

“Potter, Harry James,” McGonagall repeated and a worried look crossed her hard features before she finally continued. However, the whispers didn’t die down and he heard one of the twins say:  
“This is bad. I hope he is alright.”

End Flashback.

Harry sighed at the memory. No, he would never have guessed that he would turn out to be Harry Potter. Neither had his teachers. It had taken Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall over a week to figure out what had happened. That his name had changed due to his adoption. With his inheritance, they hadn’t recognized him either. 

No wonder, he thought as his eyes landed on his reflexion on the dark window.

His hair was smooth, long and from the deepest black he had ever seen. His eyes shone like pools of liquid emeralds, his statue was quite slim, delicate even, despite the heavy armor of his scales. They were from a warm pattern of bronze, gold and brown.

Many had wanted him to change his name, but he had refused. He had learned to be proud of his late parents, but they were dead and Bilbo had taken their place. He could never do that to his uncle and the hobbits who had accepted him so readily. And he wouldn’t want to either. 

There had been a huge outcry of the press, but he had only given them the most necessary information. He hadn’t explained what kind of creature he was or that he lived in the Shire, a land, he quickly had realized, that did not show up on any maps in Hogwarts.

He was glad that he had been so close lipped, because he had started to fear that one day Voldemort might find his way into the Shire.

He finally came back to his senses and stood up.  
Lately, he had awoken more and more often with a dark feeling of excited joy or glee and his scar oozing blood in different amounts, but this was the first time since Voldemort's resurrection that he had had a complete vision. To be honest, as much as the dream worried him, right now he was just glad that he was at Hogwarts and not at Bag End. 

Nightmares had always been a problem of his and even though he had learned quickly that he could trust his uncle Bilbo utterly and that the little man would have wanted to try to comfort him, his wish to spare his guardian to find out how much he suffered during night, had always been stronger.

Shaking his head, he finally began to move. He had wasted enough time. Shortly, he stopped and threw a glance over at Ron’s closed curtain, but then he decided that he needed to inform Dumbledore first, he could tell the redhead and Hermione about his latest vision later, when Dumbledore was warned.

Snatching his wand from his nightstand, he ran out of the dorm and down the staircase that led into the common room. He was halfly through the nearly dark room, which was only illuminated by the dying embers in the hearth, when he caught sight of an oddly shaped shadow from the corner of his eyes. He froze instantly before cautiously turning around, however, the shadow didn’t move. 

Taking a careful step forwards, he muttered the lumos-spell under his breath and sighed in relief when his eyes finally recognized what had been so grossly distorted through the shadow, it was Hermione. 

His brainy friend must once more have fallen asleep reading, for there was still a heavy, opened tomb lying in her lap. Feeling suddenly embarrassed, he chuckled silently and scratched the back of his head. This war was clearly getting to him, he was far too tense already and Voldemort had not even been back for half a year. 

He watched his friend for a moment, pondering if he should wake her up and tell her about his newest vision or not, but then Voldemort’s words echoed once more in his head and he shivered as he remembered the glee in the evil maniac’s voice. 

Shuddering, he decided that he needed to tell Dumbledore first and that he should not lose the time he would need to wake and tell Hermione and then Ron, because his friend would surely insist that they would wake the redhead and that always took quite some time, which he currently didn’t have. So he just turned around, pushed the portrait that was hiding the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower open and climbed out. 

The corridors were lit as gloomily as the common room had been and after the disturbing dream it send uneasy shivers down his back, but after over four years sneaking regularly out of bed to visit the kitchen or try to hinder Dark Lords from returning, he still reached the gargoyle that was protecting the entrance to the Headmaster's office quickly and easily. 

Dumbledore had given him his current password after Voldemort's return at the end of the last school year, so that he would always be able to reach him if need should arise. Apparently that point had come much earlier than any of them had expected. Truth to be told, he have had a feeling of dreading doom ever since those visions had started at the beginning of last year and this feeling had only increased since Voldemort’s return. Since summer no week went by without at least one of those terrifying dreams. 

Snapping out of his gloomy daydream, he finally gave the gargoyle the password and stepped onto the spiraling staircase as soon as the beast had jumped to the side. When he arrived on the upper landing, Harry listened for a moment, but no sound came from the inside. He truly hoped that he would not wake the Headmaster up as he knocked silently. 

Unlike all the other times he had visited the office, no answer came and after a moment of hesitation he knocked again, this time louder. The first indication that Dumbledore had finally heard him, was the golden light that suddenly spilled from under the gap between floor and door onto his feet. It still took a few moments until shuffling could be heard and the office door swung open. 

“Harry, my boy?” Dumbledore asked and his voice sounded a little surprised, but the old wizard stepped to the side regardless and Harry quickly stepped inside.  
“Professor, I have to speak with you,” he told the man he considered something between a mentor and a grandfather.

Dumbledore, who had started to ignite candles with his wand, stopped at his words and turned back around to face him. “Did something happen, my boy?” the old wizard questioned, walked over to his imposing desk and conjured a chair for him to sit down. 

Nodding, Harry accepted the seat, but paused before he had said anything. He wasn’t sure how to explain this vision. The vision itself had not been any different from any other he have had since his fourth year at Hogwarts, in fact, it had even been by far the less gruesome one, but it still had unnerved him. It had been Voldemort’s voice, his confidence, he assumed, but how to explain that without sounding totally crazy? 

“Harry, you can tell me anything, I will not judge you. I hope you know that?” Dumbledore suddenly interrupted his thought and like usual, as if the wizard had exactly known what had been on his mind, he had found the right words to reassure him. 

“I… had a vision…” Harry finally started and immediately, Dumbledore’s expression darkened.  
“What have you seen, my boy?” the headmaster asked, but Harry merely shook his head. “I didn’t see anything, it was more what Voldemort said… or rather how he said it,” he tried to explain. To his relief, Dumbledore still regarded him seriously and simply asked: “What did he say, and what do you mean with how he said it?”

Chewing shortly on his bottom lip, one of his nervous habits which his aunt Petunia had not succeeded in beating out of him, he arranged his thoughts, before explaining:  
“He only said that the Old Days would return, but he sounded so certain… more than in any other vision.”

Harry had expected to see Dumbledore’s eyes darken further, but instead confusion crossed the Headmaster’s features.  
“The Old Days?” he repeated and Harry nodded.  
Silence descended onto them, making Harry more and more nervous with every passing second, when he finally could stand it anymore, and Dumbledore still was frowning down onto his long, intertwined fingers, clearly deeply in thought, he questioned: “Do you know what Voldemort means with that?”

His heart sank when the Headmaster merely shook his head. “I fear, I have to look some things up before I can answer that question, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a long sigh.  
The thought that Voldemort might have done something which not even Albus Dumbledore understood, frightened Harry. He had always thought the man all-knowing, or at least immensely wise, certainly wiser than Voldemort in the end. That they might possibly have to face a problem that would exceed even Dumbledore’s capabilities, would be a nightmare come true. 

“But, you have an idea what he could…” he began to ask, unable to accept his mentor’s previous answer, but his words were cut short when suddenly the ground and the walls of the castle started to shake.

Instinctively, Harry grabbed the armrests of his chair tightly as a loud rolling sound like thunder made even the glass cabinets in the room shiver violently, however, it was of no use. The plushy, red armchair was not heavy or stable enough to keep upright under the motion of the earth and he fell over with it. The piece of furniture slammed painfully into his back and with a muffled groan Harry quickly crawled away from it.

His eyes began to move frantically in desperate search for a secure spot, or at least something to pull himself up on, but the only things his mind could proceed was the struggling of the other man in the room. Dumbledore had apparently jumped up fast enough, because he was standing next to his window, clinging to the windowsill while Fawks fluttered around his head, admitting confused shrieks over and over again.

A rattling sound made Harry look up and with horror he saw the Headmaster's fragile looking glass cabinet waver dangerously, before it slowly, as if in slow motion, tilted forwards and shattered loudly on the ground. All around them, books were falling out of their shelves as well and even the usually silently snoring portraits were screaming in fright as their frames shook; it was, as if the world was coming to its end, but what he saw next frightened him even more.

Silver lines had appeared on the wooden floor and were creeping up on them like living beings. The sight finally gave him the strength to push himself up and shout as loudly as he could, so that his words would be heard about the hubbub:  
“What's that?”  
Dumbledore's head snapped around and to his horror he saw fear flickering in those old, but strong-willed eyes.  
“Whatever it is, don't touch it!” Dumbledore shouted back and leaped over to his desk where he sacked against the only piece of furniture that was by now still standing.

“Is that Voldemort’s doing?” he shouted, while grabbing onto the desk as well.  
“I fear so!” Dumbledore retorted, before commanding: “Don’t move, I will try to conjure a protective circuit!” 

Harry didn’t even think about disobeying the headmaster’s orders and tightened his hands around the old wood. Dumbledore pulled his wand out and began to mutter a string of alien sounding words. Harry's eyes flickered back and forth between the silver lines that were closing in on them and the shimmering shield that was raising around them. For a moment he felt the well-known reassurance which he always had felt near the ancient wizard, but then the lines reached the barrier and he froze. The shimmering shield began to flicker in and out of existence and as he looked up to the headmaster, he could see in those normally sparkling blue eyes the knowledge that they were doomed.

At the same time as the realization hit him, a sound like shattering glass reached his ears. Harry's head snapped around, just in time to see the protective circuit shatter into thousand pieces. A scream of denial fled his mouth, but he couldn't hear his own voice anymore as he suddenly felt body shift without his consent. The time he needed to transform had grown shorter in the past years and thus, only a second later, he instinctively reached for the headmaster with his long, spiked tail, picking him up. He deposited the man securely between his front paws and curled around him before he let out a mighty roar and a shockwave of his dragon magic, that magic, that usually slept soundly within the three gemstones beneath his collarbones.

It did the trick; Voldemort’s dark magic slammed against it and withered instandly, like shadows that were devoured by the brightest light. He watched the strange light fade away. Only when he was sure they wouldn’t return, did his mind calm down enough to realize what had just happened; or rather, what he had just done in Professor dumbledore’s office. he had transformed, into his dragon form in a comparrisingly tiny room. 

His sides pressed uncomfortably against shelves and other peaces of furniture and he was sure more of it was currently stuck in his belly. Dumbledore was still crouched between his front paws, but was getting back to his feet, looking rather rumpled. His white hair and beard stood up in odd ways and his wizarding had slipt down onto his shoulder, but his eyes were twinkling merrily as ever.

Grumbling under his breath, Harry shifted so he wouldn’t squash the wizard while he attempted to shift back and then concentrated on his magical core. The world around him seemed to grow bigger as he shrunk and a moment later he once again stood next to Dumbledore in his human shape.

“My, my,” Dumbledore said as he flicked his wand and the office righted itself around them. “I must say when you told me about your dragon nature in your first year, I did not expect this. Drakens usually are smaller and even shifted, more humanoid,” he hummed and sat down behind his desk as if nothing had happened, but then his expression darkened as he added, “take a seat, my boy.”

Thankful, Harry did as told, he felt unusually exhausted, something he had never before experienced after one of his transformations. But then again, he never had used so much of his dragon magic before either.

Dumbledore examined him for a long moment before he finally asked: “Are you feeling alright, my boy?”  
harry nodded. “Just a bit tired, but that can wait. What happened?”  
“I believe you just saved us, my boy,” Dumbledore said seriously. “Voldemort has performed some kind of ritual, but you saved us with your most impressive dragon magic. I believe, when you saw my protective circle shatter, you instinctively released all of your power to shield us. It was quite an impressive sight,” a small, smile tucked on the corner of the old wizard's lips, however, it was unable to reach the man's eyes which still were unusually dim and sad.

Unfortunately, Harry didn’t feel any wiser than before. Once again Dumbledore had successfully managed to explain everything without explaining anything. “What did Voldemort do?” Harry reformulated his question and began to look around, even though he knew it was unlikely to find out what the Dark Lord's plan had been from a spot on the floor of Dumbledore's office.

“Professor, when you say that it was me who saved you, what has happened to the rest of the students? Or the Professors?” He wondered loudly. “Did this attack only focus on us, or ...?” He didn't dare to finish his sentence, especially when he saw Dumbledore’s grave expression. To his relief said wizard rose to his feet in the next moment and announced: “We should go and see how much damage Voldemort caused this time.” 

“I will go and check Gryffindor Tower,” he told Dumbledore, already turning to the door.  
“You do that, my boy, and would you go to the Hufflepuffs as well? Their current password is ‘Eternal Friendship’. I assume you know where their common room is located?” the Headmaster questioned and blushing, Harry nodded. Of course he knew where the House of Hufflepuff was located, he owned the Marauder’s Map after all.  
“Then off you go, we will meet here again in twenty minutes,” Dumbledore told him and Harry only nodded shortly before quickly leaving the office. 

Once Harry had stepped down from the spiral staircase, he fell into a jog, as the bad feeling inside of him rose with every step he took. The way back to the tower felt like a small eternity, even though he had run from the last landing to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was looking frantically around as he reached her, with the same haunted expression in her eyes he had seen on her when his godfather had broken into Hogwarts and tried to open her with force. 

“What in Merlin’s name?” She asked, but Harry didn’t feel like explaining the situation to a portrait right now and instead simply shouted the password at her. The Fat Lady gave him an accusing look, but when he repeated the password, she fortunately opened up without any other questions. 

The first thing he noticed was that the common room looked still just like the evening before, only far more chaotic. desks where unfinished essays had lay on had fallen over, scattering the papers and spilling the ink from unclosed bottles onto the plush carpets. Heavy armchairs lay on their sides, portraits hung lopsidedly and a stack of Exploding-Snap cards had scattered everywhere. 

Praying that Hermione would not have been injured, he carefully made his way over to the corner where he had seen his friend sleeping earlier. He sighed in relief when he saw that her weight on top of that from the heavy armchair must have been enough to keep the piece of furniture up right, only her book had fallen down. However, the fact that she seemed still deeply asleep made the dread grow inside of him and he had to take a few intakes of air, before he felt able to lean over and shake her carefully.

“Hermione, wake up,” he whispered, so to not startle her. When she didn’t reacted, he shook her with a bit more force and repeated his words, only louder, but all it managed was that Hermione’s head rolled to the side like that of a puppet. Suppressing the shivers that wanted to run down his spine, he shook her a third time, this time quie violent, but still he got no reaction. 

Stepping back from his friend, he closed his eyes for a moment and reminded himself that this didn’t have to mean that she was dead. Cursing about his lack of magic, he stepped closer once again, he picked her wrist up, but found nothing. His innards seemed to freeze as dread slowly turned into horror, but remembering that his Bilbo had once told him that it could be quite difficult to find the right spot, he let go of the hand after a few seconds and instead simply placed a finger under her nose and after a moment a soft breeze touched his skin.

He sighed in relief, his friend was only asleep, even though it seemed to be no normal sleep, however, he was sure that Dumbledore would know a counter spell to whatever Voldemort had used. He gave his slumbering friend a last look and adjusted her head, so that she would not have a stiff neck when she would wake up again, before making his way up to the dormitories, he had to check the others as well, even though it was likely that they would be in the same state, but one could never be sure when Voldemort was involved. 

Deciding to check his own dormitory first, he pushed the door with the inscription “5th year” open and stepped inside. It was still as dark as it had been when he had left the room about an hour ago, but all snoring had died down, giving the dormitory an eeHe once again steeled himself, before going over to Ron’s bed and pulling the curtains open. Like usual, his red-haired friend laid on his back, limbs spread all over the bed and mouth wide open as he drooled onto his pillow. 

Making a face, Harry stepped closer and once more stretched his finger out. He only realized how tense he still had been, despite his believe that Ron would most likely be asleep as well, when he felt the tickling of air on his finger and relaxed noticeably.  
For a moment he simply stood at the bedside of his sleeping friend, staring at him and watching the soft rising and falling of his chest, before reality caught up on him again and he quickly pulled Ron’s covers up and covered him thoroughly before making his way over to Nevill’s bed. 

Soon he had checked all boy’s in his and the other dormitories. The situation had everywhere been the same, and he wasn’t sure if it should make him nervous or if he should feel relief. Over and over again he told himself that Dumbledore would know a solution, but the worry about his friends was a constant in his guts. 

When he had finally finished all boy’s dormitories, he hesitated a moment, before climbing up the stairs to the girl’s rooms. It didn’t feel correct to intrude on sleeping girls and he knew that Bilbo would have his head if he ever found out that he had looked at a girl in her nightgown, it was something no respectable Hobbit (or wizard, for that matter) should ever do.  
But if he wanted to know if nothing worse than a magical sleep had happened to the other girls, he had no choice. With a mumbled apology on his lips, he climbed up and pushed the door to Hermione’s dormitory open. 

He instantly spotted her bed, not only because it was the only one empty, but also because it was practically forded by stacks of books.

He wanted to snort, until he remembered that his brainy friend was downstairs in a magical induced sleep that Voldemort had caused. He quickly turned his back to the sad sight and walked over to Parvati’s bed, it wouldn't do to break down now. He finally pushed the memories to the back of his head and hurried to check the other girls, before racing over to the Hufflepuff rooms. He only checked the students there quickly, because by now he didn’t doubt that they would all be asleep anymore, before returning to Dumbledore’s office. 

The spiral staircase seemed to move awfully slowly, he wanted to talk with Dumbledore and come up with a plan of how to awaken his friends and fellow pupils. To his relief he saw that the old wizard had already returned to his office when he arrived on the landing. Once again he went over to the armchair he had sitten in earlier that night.  
“Do I assume correctly, that you also found your friends and school companions sleeping?” Dumbledore asked as soon as he had sat down. Nodding, Dumbledore sight heavily.  
“I think it is safe to assume that Voldemort's ritual is the cause of this. All people in this castle are currently asleep, with the acception of us,” at those words, his mentor gave him a long, unreadable look.

Not sure what he was supposed to say, Harry fidgeted a little in his chair. “Well, that isn't that bad, is it? I mean, they are only sleeping, we can wake them up?” even though after the look Dumbledore had given him, Harry didn't believe that it would be an easy matter to wake the others up anymore.

Dumbledore made a non-comting gesture, before telling him “I have tried a few counterspells and even one or two potions, this is not a normal sleep we are currently dealing with, not even a normal magical one.”  
Coldness spread once more through harry’s stomach, as he heard his fears being affirmed and he lowered his gaze to hide the desperation in his eyes. However, when when Dumbledore picked his sentence up once more, his head snapped back up again:

“Fortunately, I managed to put the Professors into stasis, they are safe for now.”  
Those words gave Harry at least some hope, but only ensuring their survival would not be enough in the long run, so he asked: “What are we going to do, now?”  
“For tonight,” Dumbledore began in a thoughtful tone of voice, “we both should get some rest, and tomorrow, we will put the students into stasis as well, before trying to find out what other damage Voldemort has managed to do to our world. I fear that putting every wizard and witch to sleep is merely a small part of his plan.”

“Do I have to go back to the Gryffindor Tower?” Harry asked with a shiver, the thought of spending the night with his comatous friends freaked him out, but to his relief, Dumbledore shook his white head. “No, I believe the hospital wing will be a better accomodation for this night.”

Having slept in a hospital bed often enough, Harry simply nodded and rose simultaneously with Dumbledore. They began the journey to the other end of the castle. As they arrived, they found the hospital wing covered in darkness, not even Madam Pomfrey's office was illuminated anymore. Silently, Harry walked over to the bed next to the one Dumbledore had chosen and climbed in. It felt like the oddest experience in his life, to see the Headmaster doing something so mundane, somehow, the old man seemed always awake when he had searched him out, so that he had unconsciously started to believe that the wizard did not sleep at all, but here was the proof that Dumbledore was just as human as he himself.

“Sleep well, Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice wafted over.  
“You too, Sir,” he retorted as he turned onto his side and closed his eyes, hoping that the next day would bring a solution to the mess they have found themselves in. 

***

“Thorin Oakenshield, finally. I did not assume I would find you so far in the south in one of the cities of men.”  
Thorin halted in his movement, not letting show how surprised he was that someone in this southern region knew his name. Slowly, he placed the heavy hammer he was working the simple sword in front of him next to the anvil down, before slowly raising his gaze. The man he found standing in front of him, was one he had heard a lot about but never seen; Gandalf the Gray, one of the Istari.

“Times for dwarfs are hard and I have to get my nephews through the next winter. How can I be of service?” he grunted as respectfully as he could lower himself to be, after all he was a king, even if circumstances had forced him to accept labor that was far beneath his station.

“Ah,” the old wizard began to retort with a genuine smile that reminded Thorin why he had always seeked to avoid the secretive folks, “but I think I am the one who can be of service to you, or rather, if everything turns out as I hope it will, we can be of service to each other.” The wizard made a short pause then, in which Thorin stayed silent, patiently waiting for what else the wise man had to say.

“Thorin, son of Thrain, I know you have searched out your people in hope to find help for the reclamation of the Lonely Mountain, and I also know that they are unwilling to take their chance with Smaug, however, I might have a solution for your predicament.”

Thorin's attention immediately increased tenfold, and the calmly glowing embers that was his dream to recover his folk's old home roared to life again. “You know a way to free Erebor from the dragon?” He repeated, his voice having dropped to a low, eager whisper.  
“Maybe,” Gandalf retorted. “I would like to meet with you this evening in the nearest tavern, would that be possible?”

“I will be there,” he told the wizard, his hand already reaching out for his hammer, if he wanted to be able to meet Gandalf this evening, he had to finish his workload first. As he looked up a moment later to bit the wizard farewell until then, the old man had already disappeared, however.

The next hours he worked tirelessly and without pause until the sun had sunken. Only then did he place his tools down again and extinguished the fire in the hearth. One short moment he disgustedly looked down onto the pile of swords he had crafted this day, they were simple weapons, not nearly as beautiful and strong as his kind normally crafted and he had learned to appreciate since a young age, as men did not understand the beauty and value of such fine art. He hated the work in the small village that was located somewhere between Gondor and Rohan, but it earned him enough money to care for at least two of the last three members of his family.

Leaving the small forge, he made his way down the road and entered the shabby but cheap Inn where he had rented a room for Kili, Fili and himself and which also held the single tavern in the small town. His nephews had not returned yet and he assumed that they were still with Balin, training.

Even though the two young dwarfs had offered to find work as well and help earn their living, he had insisted that they would continue their education. The day would come when Fili would inherit the throne of the Lonely Mountain from him and Kili would be named Steward of one of the other dwarf-kingdoms that would be in his brother's care, they needed their education.

With long, heavy strides he walked over to the old dresser that stood in one corner of the room and splashed some cold water from a bowl into his face to clean the soot off, before doing the same with his hands.

When his skin color could be recognized again, he dried himself, before giving the room a last look and leaving it once more. Downstairs, the bar-room was already heavily crowded and he had to push through the masses of tall men in search for a table. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found one in a deserted corner, which was probably unclaimed because it was the furthest away from the bar. However, that just suited him currently and he sat down to wait for the wizard.

After about five minutes the young barmaid appeared and he ordered some bread, cheese and a pint of beer. While he waited, he let his gaze wander over the men and women surrounding him. The village they all lived in was not a rich one and everybody had to work hard to earn their living, therefore the gathering in the tavern was a welcome change in the dull, daily routine.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he heard a chair being pulled over the stoney floor close to him and as he looked up, he saw Gandalf sitting down, the wizard had come after all.

“I should introduce myself. I am Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey,” the wizard started speaking.  
“I assumed as much,” Thorin retorted “Your name is not unfamiliar.” He watched as Gandalf stopped the barmaid and ordered something to drink and eat as well, before the Istari turned back to him, saying “Well that’s a nice surprise.”

Not in the mood for drowning out conversation, Thorin took a sip from his tanker, before addressing Gandalf once more. “Let’s get to business, I neither have time nor patience to sit around in a dirty tavern.” in return, Gandalf eyed him for a moment, before nodding and saying “Very well, let’s get to the heart of the matter, then.” The wizard made another pause, before continuing in a hushed voice. “I have sensed the return of the sixth Istari and his valyrian master, Vardo, the Valar that carries the light of the Silmarillion.”

Thorin had to grab his tanker tighter in order to not jump angrily up and pull his sword, he couldn’t believe that this old fairy tale was the reason why the wizard had interrupted his work. Of course, he, like all other dwarfs, respected Eru and his first and strongest children, the Valar, but Vardo had never been more than a legend, a beautiful one, but still nothing more. 

“You don’t believe me, Thorin Oakenshield? But I heard Eru sing one and a half decades ago and since then there is a new melody in his song. Vardo does exist and he is the greatest of us all!” Gandalf interrupted his train of thought with an angry voice and Thorin found himself slightly surprised at the harsh tone from the wizard who was known for his soft heart and calm character. 

Clearing his throat, he decided to try to make a mense. “I am sorry, Master Gandalf, if my words have insulted you, that was not my intention. Let’s say, this Valar does exist, how can he be of any help to me? As far as I know, Valar have not the power to force unwilling dwarfs into joining me, or rather, they would never use their powers in such a way, so what is his existence to me?”

“Thorin, I know, for your kin the quest of Erebor is a matter of reclaiming your home, but let me tell you, the outcome of your journey has long become a matter to our entire world, even though most people are not aware of it. Something is slumbering inside that mountain, growing, restoring itself and spreading it’s darkness into the world. First it will befall Ruhn and from there the rest of Middle-earth,” Gandalf told darkly and his voice, which had already been very quiet at the start of his explanation, had grown nearly inaudible at the end. 

However, it probably had just the effect the wizard had aimed for, because Thorin felt his muscles tensing beneath his tunic and his hands automatically grabbed the knife that was laying next to his plate. The thought that something could destroy his beloved home rampaged like a wild animal through his mind and shortly a vail covered his eyes, but with the mental strength his dear mother (Mahal bless her undying soul), he pushed the madness away and instead concentrated back on the conversation.

“What darkness…” he growled lowly “could be growing in the Lonely Mountain?”  
“I fear,” Gandalf began and true horror was flashing for a second through his blue eyes, “It is the same darkness this world had to battle once before and which’s name I do not dare to speak out aloud.”

Thorin’s heart missed a beat as his brain processed the frightening news. For 1300 years peace had reigned in Middle-earth, but the last war against Sauron had been so horrible, that the Istari and Elves still told the tale to remind the young folks what hard-earned luck they had to live in such lucky times. “Are you saying, the fallen Maia is back?” 

“Not quite, yet, but it will be only a matter of time, however, we can hand him a big blow by recovering Erebor and destroy what he has hidden there,” Gandalf said, however, Thorin was not yet convinced, he knew what was slumbering there and Smaug would not be defeated easily. Even though his heart yearned for his kin’s lost home, his first priority was to keep his people safe and attacking a giant fire drake could not be considered as such. However, if Gandalf told the truth and a Valar had breached the borders to this realm, then there was hope, but he needed more information first.

“What can you tell me about the Valar, will he agree to help us and will he be strong enough?” To his annoyance Gandalf started to chuckle across from him and Thorin had to wait for long seconds, before the wizard was finally once again able to speak.  
“My apologies, Thorin, but yes he will most certainly help us. He has not always been a Valar, in fact, he has not even been from Middle Earth, but Illuvatar chose his soul and blessed it after seeing his love for this plane. Now he carries the brightest and purest light that has ever been known to us and with it he can bring salvation to those who fell to the darkness. Physically, he is a small person who might seem weak and maybe even helpless with his unseeing eyes, however, you should not let his outward appearance blind you to his true might. I can assure you, that he wheals powers that can only be matched by the Creator himself.”

Suddenly, the image of two huge, cat-like eyes in a midst of silver light appeared in front of his inner eye. Could it be that this Valar, this mythical creature, was the being he had been searching for since he had reached manhood? His one? The journey to recover Erebor had just grown even more appealing. 

“So, where do we find the Valar?” He inquired, carefully, so that his voice would not give his excitement away. “Vardo was his name, right?” A shiver went actually down his spine as his mouth formed the name of his one, and he was sure that the Valar was that person, for who else than the carrier of the Silmarillion could produce such a light? And that his one was a higher being than men, elves or even his kin, he had known since he had first dreamed of him.

“I sensed my maiarian brother far in the north, in the Green Lands to be precise,” Gandalf hummed.  
“The Green Lands? But that is close to the Blue Mountains, should I not have noticed if such strong beings would live there?” Thorin wondered aloud, after all, the Blue Mountains were his family’s home since they had flat Erebor, but Gandalf only shook his head.  
“I believe they live far deeper in the country than you and your kind ever have gone since Nature’s force destroyed the northern part of the Ered Luin.  
“Then they live near the ocean? That is truly deep in the inland,” Thorin hummed, suddenly not surprised anymore that he had still not met his one even though he had nearly traveled all over Middle-earth. But it was true, since the great halls and tunnels of Ered Luin had been destroyed, the dwarfs had avoided the second part of the mountain chain that had once been a proud region, it was too dangerous and even though the landscape surrounding it had still to be beautiful, dwarfs were just not interested in grass, flowers and huge waters. 

Making up his mind, Thorin gave Gandalf a long, assessing look, before humming: “I know a few dwarfs I consider my friends and who will come to aid me if I call. But it would still not be enough for an army.”  
“For what I plan an army will not be necessary,” Gandalf retorted and drowned the last rest of his ale. Thorin waited patiently for the wizard to continue, but before the old man could do so, an excited voice interrupted them.

“For what do we need an army? Are we going to war, uncle?”  
Thorin sighed inwardly as he recognized his younger nephew’s voice. Only a moment later Fili and Kili came into view as they managed to fight their way through the crowd of men, closely followed by Balin. The three dwarfs flopped down onto the empty chairs and gave him a curious look, which made him inwardly swear. However, despite the wish to keep his last relatives save, Thorin knew that Kili and Fili as his heirs had the right to know what he was planning, but Gandalf spoke up before he had a chance.

“Fili, Kili and Master Balin, if I am not mistaken?” the wizard asked. The three dwarfs nodded in affirmation, Fili and Kili with a sceptical look on their faces, while Balin tried to hide his awe at the sight of the famous Istari.  
“I searched Thorin out to offer him my help in the recovery of Erebor,” Gandalf continued.  
“Erebor? We will return home?” Fili exclaimed, excitement written all over his face.  
“Don’t think that it will be a walk in the sun,” Thorin merely grumbled, catching a meaningful gaze of Balin, he had expected that his former mentor would quickly notice that there was more to the journey than it appeared on the first sight. 

Fortunately his nephews were not yet as insightful and wise like the old dwarf, and simply prattled on about adventures they would surely encounter on their way through Middle-earth. 

“Who will accompany us?” Balin asked then, drawing the conversation back to more important matters.  
Thorin returned his attention to the two elder across from him and to his left. “I thought of the old gang,” he told Balin without much explanations, but it wasn’t necessary anyway. The Old Gang were dwarfs all between his and Balin’s age, who had fought with him in the first row as Smaug had attacked and they later had tried to recover Moria. They were the most trustworthy, loyal and honorable dwarfs he knew and he did not doubt that they would follow his call. 

As expected, Balin nodded and a short moment of silence fell over them, until the white-haired dwarf asked: “But how will we find them? They can be scattered all over Middle-earth.”  
Thorin turned his eyes to Gandalf, suspecting that wizards had more means to solve such problems than dwarfs, and he was right.  
“If you give me their names, Thorin, I should be able to find them. I suggest you, Master Balin and your nephews will go ahead, while I will gather the others and send them after you,” Gandalf offered.

Seeing no flaws in the plan, Thorin nodded, but then added “I will accompany my nephews and Balin, however I will have to make a little detour to the blue mountains and inform my sister of our plans.”  
“Yes, you should do that, Thorin, not that she will worry if we do not return for the winter,” Balin agreed.

* The last three passages are taken from Harry Potter the Sorcerer's Stone. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and the publishing combanies. I do not claim any ownership.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I hope I you enjoyed this first chapter, the next will be updated soon, but until then, I have a few questions for you:
> 
> Would you like Harry to have/ get some piercings?  
> How do you imagine dwarfen-courtship?  
> What do you imagine Thorin would do if he were to court someone?
> 
> Your JunjouSlashGirl :-)


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